"I wouldn't have suspected you to be so well-informed on so many subjects," she told him, while servants filled their plates at the refreshment tables. "I assumed you had spent most of your time drinking, and yet you are remarkably well-read."

"I can drink and hold a book at the same time," he said.

She frowned at him. "Don't make light of it, when I am trying to express that… you are not…"

"I am not what?" he prompted softly.

"You are not exactly what you seem."

He gave her a slightly crooked grin. "Is that a compliment, Miss Hargreaves?"

She was slightly dazed as she stared into the warm blue intensity of his eyes. "I suppose it must be."

A woman's voice intruded on the moment, cutting through the spell of intimacy with the exquisite precision of a surgeon's blade. "Why, Cousin Caroline," the woman exclaimed, "I am astonished to see how stylish you look. It is a great pity that you cannot rid yourself of the spectacles, dear, and then you would be the toast of the ball."

The speaker was Julianne, Lady Brenton, the most beautiful and treacherous woman that Caroline had ever known. Even the people who despised her-and there were no end of those-had to concede that she was physically flawless. Julianne was slender, of medium height, with perfectly curved hips and a lavishly endowed bosom. Her features were positively angelic, her nose small and narrow, her lips naturally hued a deep pink, her eyes blue and heavily lashed. Crowning all of this perfection was a heavy swirl of blond hair in a silvery shade that seemed to have been distilled from moonlight. It was difficult, if not impossible, to believe that Caroline and this radiant creature could be related in any way, and yet they were first cousins on her father's side.

Caroline had grown up in awe of Julianne, who was only a year older than herself. In adulthood, however, admiration had gradually turned to disenchantment as she realized that her cousin's outward beauty concealed a heart that was monstrously selfish and calculating. When she was seventeen, Julianne had married a man forty years older than herself, a wealthy earl with a penchant for collecting fine objects. There had been frequent rumors that Julianne was unfaithful to her elderly spouse, but she was far too clever to have been caught. Three years ago her husband died in his bed, ostensibly of a weak heart. There were whispered suspicions that his death was not of natural causes, but no proof was ever discovered.

Julianne's blue eyes sparkled wickedly as she stood before Caroline. Her immaculate blondness was complemented by a shimmering white gown that draped so low in front that the upper halves of her breasts were exposed.

Sliding a flirtatious glance at Andrew, Julianne remarked, "My poor little cousin is quite blind without her spectacles… a pity, is it not?"

"She is lovely with or without them," Andrew replied coldly. "And Miss Hargreaves's considerable beauty is matched by her interior qualities. It is unfortunate that one cannot say the same of other women."

Julianne's entrancing smile dimmed, and she and Andrew regarded each other with cool challenge. Unspoken messages were exchanged between them. Caroline's pleasure in the evening evaporated as a few things became instantly clear. It was obvious that Julianne and Andrew were well acquainted. There seemed to be some remnant of intimacy, of sexual knowledge between them, that could have resulted only from a past affair.

Of course they had once been lovers, Caroline thought resentfully. Andrew would surely have been intrigued by a woman of such sensuous beauty… and there was no doubt that Julianne would have been more than willing to grant her favors to a man who was the heir to a great fortune.

"Lord Drake," Julianne said lightly, "you are more handsome than ever… why, you seem quite reinvigorated. To whom do we owe our gratitude for such a pleasing transformation?"

"My father," Andrew replied bluntly, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "He cut me out of his will-indeed a transforming experience."

"Yes, I had heard about that." Julianne's bow-shaped lips pursed in a little moue of disappointment. "Your inheritance was one of your most agreeable attributes, dear. A pity that you've lost it." She shot Caroline a snide smile before adding, "Clearly your prospects have dwindled considerably."

"Don't let us keep you, Julianne," Caroline said. "No doubt you have much to accomplish tonight, with so many wealthy men present."

Julianne's blue eyes narrowed at the veiled insult. "Very well. Good evening, Cousin Caroline. And pray do show Lord Drake more of your 'interior beauty'-it may be your only chance of retaining his attention." A catlike smile spread across her face as she murmured, "If you can manage to lure Drake to your bed, cousin, you will find him a most exciting and talented partner. I can give you my personal assurance on that point." Julianne departed with a luscious swaying of her hips that caused her skirts to swish silkily.

Scores of male gazes followed her movement across the room, but Andrew's was not one of them. Instead he focused on Caroline, who met his scowling gaze with an accusing glare. "Despite my cousin's subtlety and discretion," Caroline said coolly, "I managed to receive the impression that you and she were once lovers. Is that true?"


Until Lady Brenton's interruption, Andrew had actually been enjoying himself. He had always disliked attending balls and soirees, at which one was expected to make dull conversation with matrimonially minded girls and their even duller chaperones. But Caroline Hargreaves, with her quick wit and spirit, was surprisingly entertaining. For the last half hour he had felt a peculiar sense of well-being, a glow that had nothing to do with alcohol.

Then Julianne had appeared, reminding him of all his past debauchery, and the fragile sensation of happiness had abruptly vanished. Andrew had always tried to emulate his father in having no regrets over the past… but there it was, the unmistakable stab of rue, of embarrassment, over the affair with Julianne. And the hell of it was, the liaison hadn't even been worth the trouble. Julianne was like those elaborate French desserts that never tasted as good as they looked, and certainly never satisfied the palate.

Andrew forced himself to return Caroline's gaze as he answered her question. "It is true," he said gruffly. "We had an affair two years ago… brief and not worth remembering."

He resented the way Caroline stared at him, as if she were so flawless that she had never done anything worthy of regret. Damn her, he had never lied to her, or pretended to be anything other than what he was. She knew he was a scoundrel, a villain… for God's sake, he'd nearly resorted to blackmail to get her to attend the weekend party in the first place.

Grimly he wondered why the hell Logan and Madeline had invited Julianne here in the first place. Well, he couldn't object to her presence here merely because he'd once had an affair with her. If he tried to get her booted off the estate for that reason, there were at least half a dozen other women present who would have to be thrown out on the same grounds.

As if she had followed the turn of his thoughts, Caroline scowled at him. "I am not surprised that you've slept with my cousin," she said. "No doubt you've slept with at least half the women here."

"What if I have? What difference does it make to you?"

"No difference at all. It only serves to confirm my low opinion of you. How inconvenient it must be to have all the self-control of a March hare."

"It's better than being an ice maiden," he said with a sneer.

Her brown eyes widened behind the spectacles, and a flush spread over her face. "What? What did you call me?"

The edge in her tone alerted a couple nearby to the fact that a quarrel was brewing, and Andrew became aware that they were the focus of a few speculative stares. "Outside," he ground out. "We'll continue this in the rose garden."

"By all means," Caroline agreed in a vengeful tone, struggling to keep her face impassive.

Ten minutes later they had each managed to slip outside.

The rose garden, referred to by Madeline Scott as her "rose room," was a southwest section of the garden delineated by posts and rope swags covered with climbing roses. White gravel covered the ground, and fragrant lavender hedges led to the arch at the entrance. There was a massive stone urn on a pedestal in the center of the rose room, surrounded by a velvety blue bed of catmint.

The exotic perfumed air did nothing to soothe Andrew's frustration. As he saw Caroline's slight figure enter the rustling garden, he could barely restrain himself from pouncing on her. He kept still and silent instead, his jaw set as he watched her approach.

She stopped within arm's length of him, her head tilted back so that she could meet his gaze directly. "I have only one thing to say, my lord." Agitation pulled her voice taut and high. "Unlike you, I have a high regard for the truth. And while I would never take exception to an honest remark, no matter how unflattering, I do resent what you said back there. Because it is not true! You are categorically wrong, and I will not go back inside that house until you admit it!"

"Wrong about what?" he asked. "That you're an ice maiden?"

For some reason the term had incensed her. He saw her chin quiver with indignation. "Yes, that," she said in a hiss.

He gave her a smile designed to heighten her fury. "I can prove it," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "What is your age… twenty-six?"

"Yes."

"And despite the fact that you're far prettier than average, and you possess good blood and a respected family name, you've never accepted a proposal of marriage from any man."